


What Have You Been Hiding?

by Moonfireflight



Series: The Abyssal Celebrant [4]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Aether Sex (Final Fantasy XIV), Aethersex, Banter, Explicit Sexual Content, Female reader perspective, Heavensward Spoilers, Light Bondage, Multi, POV Second Person, Shadowbringers Spoilers, Snark, Threesome - F/M/M, new game plus au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-05
Updated: 2020-03-05
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:34:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23024080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moonfireflight/pseuds/Moonfireflight
Summary: “Wait. In other words, he is coming here to… lay with me?”“Only if you accept. If he dares to try anything you don’t want, I won’t hesitate to teach him a lesson he’ll remember for centuries. Assuming you leave anything for me.”***I just think Ascians are neat. This is a continuation of this same vague series in which I self-indulgently dote on Lahabrea, and also lovingly hassle him. It's based on the idea of the WoL doing a "reset" (new game plus) and taking a much different path in life. You don't really have to read the other two if you just want the smut...***I consent to the OTW terms of service and explicitly deny rights to reprint, share, or redistribute this work on any platform not owned by OTW. # (Yes, I'm still miffed at 3rd party reader apps making money off of our creations here)
Relationships: Lahabrea & Nabriales (Final Fantasy XIV), Lahabrea (Final Fantasy XIV)/Reader, Lahabrea/Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Nabriales (Final Fantasy XIV)/Reader, Nabriales/Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV)
Series: The Abyssal Celebrant [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1601428
Comments: 7
Kudos: 45





	What Have You Been Hiding?

The staff in your hands weighs heavy, your arms trembling from exertion and repetition. There’s a dull ache in your skull from hours of recalculating and testing different formulae with which to shape the aether flowing through you. “That should be enough for today.” His words, though muffled by your heavy breathing, are music to your ears. “Well done, though I wish you would stop holding back. I’m no fragile elder.” 

It had taken some doing for Lahabrea to convince you to use him as your training dummy, but he insisted it was the best way to analyze the nuances of your spellweaving. But every time you watched your altered fire spells wash over his form, you could only see those raw edges and tears he’d allowed you to glimpse in his soul. It was a sore subject for both of you, so you opted to deflect it. “You’re right. You’ve never left me doubting your stamina in any case.” 

He walks you to one of the high-backed chairs here in your makeshift basement workspace, pushing your hand out of the way so he can rub your shoulders instead. In moments he’s found and fixed the worst of your aches better than you ever could. “If last night was the source of your distraction, perhaps I should refrain from staying here on the eve of our planned lessons, hmm?” 

_ Bastard. _ As fun as it was to tease him, getting the upper hand in anything resembling a debate, was rare. “Oh, no. No need for that. I’ll figure something out…” Your words trail off as he releases your shoulders and begins running his long fingers through your hair, petting and soothing. 

His reply is matter of fact. While not one to give himself to romantic overtures and frequent platitudes when he does speak so his words leave no room for doubt. “As if I could.” 

You twist in your seat and grasp the front of his cowl to pull him down into a kiss, ignoring the indignant look that flashes across his face. A statement of such significance deserves an equally impassioned response. Any lingering pain from your exercises fades into the background as your lips meet, savoring his taste - warm with a curl of incense smoke. There’s a lightness in your chest, a trembling. You’re not yet used to being sure that he won’t slip away, vanish, cast you away like a conquered piece in a game to move on to the next. That he would leave his mark on your soul and you on his, like paints blending and marbling, desperate scrabbling fingerprints and intentional, fine brushstrokes. 

Despite any misgivings he had, you are the one to break the kiss, your need for air leaving you at a distinct disadvantage in this arena as well. Lahabrea’s lips quirk up into a smile, and he fondly pats your head. “There was another matter I wished to discuss with you. Now that you know the truth, some of my compatriots wish to meet you. One, in particular, will surely wish to gloat about our victory over the Warrior of Light.”

“ _ Warrior of Light? _ Was such a thing truly what I was known as once?” You stick out your tongue in distaste. 

Lahabrea seemingly ignores your flippant response, continuing on in all seriousness. “Indeed. You were the chosen hero of Hydaelyn, set to thwart our plans and undo our every machination. And you were obnoxiously skilled at doing so.” 

Determined to shake away some of the worry you notice from his squared shoulders and furrowed brow, you take a dancing step to the middle of the room and hold a hand to your chest as you croon, “Oh, how that nagging rock must seethe at seeing her erstwhile champion’s soul resplendent with jewels of darkness.”

“ _ Nagging rock? _ ” Lahabrea surprises you with a genuine laugh and pulls you to him again.  __ “That is… phenomenal. I never had the  _ privilege _ of overhearing her prattle but if your sparse memories of Her are so terrible, I’ll thank Zodiark for that blessing.” He indulges you with a quick kiss. “But, pray, this is important. The first who insists on visiting… I expect he wishes to find out why you’ve kept me so enraptured. In detail. As I have mentioned before, we never held the same concepts your societies tend to regarding relationships and exclusivity. Though distracting you was my given task, none, especially myself, expected things to go,” he pauses and uses a hand at the small of your back press your hips against his, “ _ thusly.. _ .” 

The surprisingly lewd way he chose to punctuate his sentence makes you giggle until the meaning behind his words sinks in. “Wait. In other words, he is coming here to… lay with me?” 

“Only if you accept. If he dares try anything you don’t want, I won’t hesitate to teach him a lesson he’ll remember for centuries. Assuming you leave anything for me.” 

You chuckle darkly at that addition. He’s right. Though your ardor for each other is as strong as ever, in the last few moons you’ve finally found time for him to make good on his promises to teach you how to advance your magical studies. While today had been about rote memorization and building muscle memory, the roars and hisses of captive voidsent still flood your mind easily upon reflection of prior lessons. Even with your paltry self-taught skills, you had been able to fell Ifrit alone, but now… you would never submit to someone unless you wished it. Those nights when Lahabrea seeps into your flesh, taking full possession of your form, your every movement and half your thoughts at his whim, only continued because  _ you _ wanted it so. 

“Well then, we’ll see how things go. I am curious to meet more of your kind.” 

“My kind,” he scoffs, punctuated with a derisive laugh. “Then I will inform him later that you are amenable to this meeting.” 

***

You finished up what you could handle of your lunch while Lahabrea worked in silence. Watching him inscribe his thoughts in that graceful, angular script of his was soothing, and you let it lull away some of the nervousness that would creep back up when you remembered your impending meeting with Nabriales. 

By the flourish in which he signs off on his work, you assume it to be a formal letter of some sort. Though you don’t catch the name he penned, you saw enough to know it was Elezen in origin, perhaps Ishgardian. You’ll have to ask him about his current schemes later on, as it is always fascinating to hear his thought process, nudging nobles and beastmen alike to walk the paths he’d laid out for them several steps ahead of anything they could divine. 

He folds the page with care and tucks it away in a drawer. When he stands up, he does so ponderously, pressing a hand to his lower back and stretching, stifling a groan. You smile at that rare tell of his true age, as his current form suffers none of the usual ravages of time, making his gestures a matter of muscle memory and habit. 

“He should be here soon,” he says once his unconscious ritual is complete. “There’s one thing I must tend to first.” Lahabrea holds his hand up before his shrouded face and his glyph flares to life, red light leaking out from between his clenched fingers. His form wavers for a moment, plumes of aether rising about him until he drops his arms and the glyph fades. And for the first time in some days, his mask is back in place. “It wouldn’t be proper,” he offers as a reserved half explanation. 

With his hood donned once more, he looks every bit the menacing mage you’d coveted, yet despite that, the slight hunch in his stance broadcasts vulnerability, though it is unlikely anyone else would pick up on it. Hoping to renew some of his confidence, you slip a hand into the depths of his copious hood and around his neck, and nuzzle in close to his ear. “Lahabrea. Whatever happens tonight, I am yours. That will not change. I know that is not your way, but it is mine.” You feel his cheek tense against yours as he smiles and hugs you tight. 

“Remember, nothing is expected one way or another tonight, but don’t hold back on my account. Though I’ll confess to feeling a certain amount of greed myself. I don’t mind sharing you, so long as you come back to me.” 

“There’s nowhere I’d rather be," 

***

The amorous atmosphere of a few moments ago dissipates as the two of you wait for your guest in increasingly uncomfortable silence. Nabriales was already setting a precedent by being fashionably late to your meeting, and your growing impatience and anticipation were setting your nerves on fire. Every little sound or disturbance in the aether made you jolt and look about the room. Would he be anything like Lahabrea? How would he behave? Would you really be comfortable taking him to your bed like this?

You understood his expectations for the evening, if not his motivations. The possibilities buzz through your mind, chasing each other in tight orbits. Between them, insults lay in wait - This isn’t proper or moral. What are you doing consorting with darkness, letting yourself be shared by two whom others might call monsters? What, indeed? You’d been used by others who held no qualms about what was right. You should feel some modicum of shame, says that voice, but there is none. Why should be you beholden to the rules of an unjust world? Your hands curl into fists as you hold tight to the memory of casting out Hydaelyn’s grip on your soul. Never again would someone take away your agency in this world or the next. Decorum holds no sway here in this little world of your making - all is temporary anyway, until their work, your work, is complete. 

Your resolve solidified, you do not flinch when the surrounding aether begins simmering, trembling, in ways you’d become accustomed to, preceding the expected rift portal that would bring Nabriales to your domain. At first glance, the figure that emerges from the seething mass of purple-tinged darkness could have been easily mistaken for Lahabrea. 

You swallow hard around a sudden lump in your throat as you watch him pause in the air for a moment, arms spread wide, familiar robes whipped about by winds you cannot feel, before settling to the ground. He bows to you with a flourish, entirely ignoring his fellow Ascian, before raising his head and fixing you with the many-eyed gaze of his mask. His crimson visage reminds you of a diremite, had they the capacity to look smug. The little smile he wears, bracketed by smaller and more pronounced fangs than the ones on Lahabrea’s mask, only adds to his air of condescension. “Well well. Let’s see this sweet thing you’ve been keeping cloistered away from the world, shall we?” 

Even before the portal had finished materializing, Lahabrea’s countenance shifted. He stands taller than usual, back straight as a rod, allowing him to look down his nose at the new arrival, despite being the shorter man. “So. You’ve taken a vessel of flesh,” he sneers. Any doubts your initial lack of lessons may have left you regarding his past as a scholar are gone. It is all too easy to imagine him giving a student the same look as he handed back a subpar essay. You are glad you’d proven to be an excellent pupil, even if part of your attentiveness was due to your inability to keep your eyes off your instructor. 

Nabriales shrugs off Lahabrea’s statement. “It  _ is  _ a special occasion after all. To think! The Warrior of Light now turned to our cause. I never imagined you a master of seduction, old man. Or…” There was no doubt that behind the six slanted eye sockets of his mask he was looking you up and down appraisingly. “...Was it perhaps the other way around?” 

“I did not invite you here to speculate…” 

“No,” snaps Nabriales, his gaze never leaving you. “But that’s exactly why I invited myself. Now standing before her, I tell you there is no shame to be had here. For one so lovely as she to offer herself up to you and to our cause?  _ Praise Zodiark _ .” That last drawn-out, breathy prayer tingles up your spine. “As to this body,” he says, waving a hand over himself from neck to hip and back up. “Should we reach such a comfortable accord, I intend to please you in ways he cannot.” 

You can’t help snorting out a doubting laugh at his bravado. 

Nabriales frowns, pointing a clawed finger at you. “Though I may have the flesh of a mortal, I still possess powers beyond your ken, girl.” 

There’s a pang inside of you that makes you unsure if you want to take him up on his suggestion or punch him directly in his mouth. Either could be most enjoyable, so you settle on provoking him. “Oh, great Nabriales, I do so hope you’ll show me the limits of your  _ assuredly _ impressive powers.”

For the first time since materializing here, he turns to Lahabrea. “No wonder you two get along swimmingly. Was she always like this or is your disdain contagious?” 

“You’d do well to,...!”

The aether in the room shivers then snaps taut. You stagger and blink a few times before you realize that Lahabrea is frozen in place - a sneering statue with one talon pointing square at the other man’s chest. Though there’s nothing obvious restraining him, your mind generates a brief image of sticky strands of a vilekin’s web... 

Casually sidestepping the hand pointing his way, Nabriales approaches and gives you a broad grin. “There we are! I grew weary of The Speaker’s monologues centuries ago. I have no idea how you seem to tolerate it.”   
  
“What did you do to him?” Fury drips from your every word, enough so that Nabriales’ smile falters. 

“Worry not!” he answers, attempting to dismiss your concerns with a wave of his hand. “Your sweet is safe and sound. I came here seeking a chance to get to know you better, and I’d already had enough of his interruptions.” 

Your eyes dart between the two Ascians before you settle on glaring at Nabriales. “And what did you want to know, exactly?” 

He’s now only a few fulms away from you, back to full grinning swagger, like he’s not just invaded your personal space. In no hurry, he removes each of his gauntlets and tosses them onto your reading chair by the fire. He looks down at his hands, rubbing his fingers together, considering them as though he’s getting used to this body still. “Several things. If you know how we’re here again - You, Me, Lahabrea. Igeyorhm too, but you won’t have met her, I’m sure.” The gaze of his mask locks onto you again. This close, you can catch details you’d missed earlier. Within the shroud of his hood, you can make out a trail of fine hair along his square jaw. The very tips of his crimson fangs touch his lips, his smile extending beyond them.

Nabriales lets you stew on his words. Heat creeps across your collar and up your neck beneath that mocking stare and the power he radiates, palms growing slick, pulse heavy in your chest. Too many quickening breaths later he finally speaks again. “But most of all, I wanted to know who you are.” He slides a hand up to your cheek and you lean away from the unexpected contact. Rather than retreat, he lets that hand settle on your upper arm and you allow it. For now. “Who is the woman Hydaelyn chose, only to be rejected by her?” Your cheeks ignite as he takes a step into your space, forcing you back, but you were too close to the wall to flee him if you wanted to. His scent is already curling through your mind - wild and sweet with a dusting of spice. So, you don’t recoil when he takes your hand and bows to kiss it, his plush lips hot against your skin, breath cooling heated flesh. “Who is it that so captivates The Speaker, and  _ offers herself  _ to do good Zodiark’s bidding?” 

So swiftly has this arrogant stranger enchanted you that, when he leans in to capture your lips, it is only the sight of your lover locked in a frozen rictus glare that snaps you out of it. Your eyes are on Lahabrea when you manage to plant a hand on Nabriales’ chest to hold him off. 

By the nuanced tilt of his head, you’re sure that he’s rolling his eyes behind that mask ( _ what color are they? Are they kind? Cruel?).  _ “Fine,” he snorts. “If having him watch us is bothering you, why don’t we retire to somewhere more private?” 

He’s already conjuring the portal, twirling one clawed finger leisurely through the air as he awaits your answer. Lahabrea trusts you and you…  _ Nabriales froze him with just a thought.  _ A shiver runs through you, and not just of fear - he could do the same to you and do whatever he wished. How could you fight that?  _ Would you want to? _

The sensible parts of your mind, the caution that kept you alive during brutal combat, the foresight that told you when to fight and when to run, they all scream for you to deny him. But, had you listened to them back in Ifrit’s lair Lahabrea would still be your foe, your soul not irrevocably entwined with his.  _ Whatever happens, I will survive. _ “Fine,” you snap back. 

“ _ Excellent,”  _ he hisses. 

The world cants around you, throwing off your footing as Nabriales yanks on the hand he’d kissed only a moment ago. Your hands are filled with velvety soft fabric, warm and tangled in ornamentation you’ve memorized over weeks of reverent study. In that weightless space you scramble and cling so you don’t fall, don’t crash into him and ruin yourself on the spines of his pauldrons. You careen through the portal together, dark aether roiling over you both, heady and familiar. 

The stinging in your soles tells you here’s solid stone under your feet again, but his trickery has landed you firmly in his embrace. Crushed against his chest like this, it is only the tumultuous beating of his stolen heart contrasting his steady breaths, that remind you that the sweeping angular blue-purple glyphs against black are not  _ his.  _ Nabriales’ hold on you tightens one step beyond closeness and comfort, dispelling the contentment that was creeping into you. A shiver that leaves you grinding your teeth wracks you as your joints groan in his grasp - He’s a wild card, this stranger… But he’s tipped his hand too soon by putting you on the alert. Let him do whatever he wants. The second it’s no longer fun for you,  _ he’ll know. _

You stagger as he releases you with no warning, circling, stalking around you and staying close enough to brush his fingers over your arm, your shoulders, catching a lock of hair to admire briefly. Even through your clothing his touch sparks something within you, chill prickling over your skin contrasting the slow-building heat beneath. “I wonder what he’s told you of the last time we met? I would be most curious to know…”   
  
His questioning is only delaying the inevitable so you don’t see the point of it. “He… has told me very little of that past.” 

“Oh, you hesitated just there. I know a lie when I hear one. We’re getting to know each other right now. The least you could do is give me the courtesy of an honest answer.”

“It’s true! I get hints of memories, but nothing clear.”

Nabriales stops and you find his fanged visage glaring up at you. By dint of flickering torchlight, you catch the shine of his eyes behind the mask. “Memories, hmm? And what do you recall of me?” So focused on his eyes, you don’t see him move and flinch when you feel him trail a finger along your jaw. 

An increasingly insistent part of you wants him to just  _ shut up _ and make good on his threats, put his wandering fingers and churlish tongue to better use. There’s a brief struggle in the back of your throat and you choke off the urge to tell him just that with a dismissive retort. “We met, briefly, yes? What of it?”

“Oh yes. Just the blink of an eye, for you, I’m sure.” Closer now, enough to discern every detail of his mask, to feel his quickened breath, to smell him - subtle, like cinnamon and resinous wood over leather. Your hands clench at your sides, aether ready to burst to life, to fight, to... “A little moment frozen in history, but hardly worth remembering.” 

“Are you going to keep playing games with me, mage?”

“I’m only trying to get to know you! Well, I suppose the past is the past. What’s a little murder between friends, hmm?” 

Your breath catches as his hands slip around your neck, only applying enough pressure to awaken primal fear and… Everything goes quiet except for the blood pounding in your ears, throbbing in your neck. The logical part of your brain looks around in horror and, cornered by slavering beasts, makes a hasty exit, leaving you both at the mercy of murderous intent and smoldering lust. 

As quickly as that, your parlay turns feral. 

Nabriales’ asinine laughter echoes through the chamber when you shove him, staggering him back a few steps. Flames still raging, you follow through, charging and forcing him the rest of the way into the wall. His smile doesn’t falter when you grab him by his pauldrons to slam his back against the stone again, knocking a ragged breath from his lungs.  _ That damned smile! _ Your fists clench with the intent to drive one into his jaw, but… 

You don’t know or care who made the first move, just that you can’t see his stupid grin anymore when you catch his lower lip between yours, sucking hard and making him groan. Point made, you give yourself over to the kiss and his hands roving over your back and down your sides. When one of his vermillion fangs catches your lip, that stinging pain dives straight into your core, igniting a burning need for more. Your fingers find and release the clasp on his coat, guiding the heavy garment to slip off his shoulders. His hands only leave you for long enough to struggle out of each sleeve one at a time, letting it drop to the floor. He lets out a hissing breath as you run the fingers of one hand through his spiky brown hair, mussing up whatever style was already flattened by his hood, enjoying how the fine strands slip through your fingers. 

He’s not as familiar with your garb as you are the intricacies of Ascian robes but makes a valiant, pawing effort to undo your clothing. You let him struggle for as long as it amuses you before unleashing the spell that you’ve been aching for an excuse to release. “What?!” 

From the center of this stone… cell? You pause to admire your work. The aetherial chains you summoned fuse seamlessly with those hammered into the rough stone walls, the rest of their length twined tightly around Nabriales’ wrists. He dangles there, arms above his head and feet barely touching the floor, spinning slightly on the toes of one boot so all his weight doesn’t make those chains bite into his borrowed flesh. His muscles flex deliciously beneath the skin-tight black fabric you’ve left him with as he squirms.

It's not long before his smirk returns. “Does this sight please you, then?” 

“Perhaps.”  _ Gods, but it does.  _ A bead of sweat rolls down the edge of his mask, disappearing into the fine hairs along his jawline, and something in you wants to chase it down his neck, pouncing like a starving coeurl, but you hold back. Barely. 

“My, this ah!” his breath hitches as his foot slips, and he struggles to right himself again. “This does paint... a familiar picture indeed.” 

“What do you mean? Speak plainly.” 

“Oh, so forceful. And what will you do if I refuse to acquiesce to your demands? Rip me out of this body with your bare hands? Char it black and burning? Cast me out and  _ destroy me _ ?”

His words tug at something lodged in the back of your mind, dredging it up through thick layers of sucking mud, and it  _ aches. _ You move your lips to speak but your tongue is too thick in your mouth.

Captured, hanging from chains wrought in the forge of your anger at him, at yourself, his spine straightens, neck held high. “What is this? The sweet pang of memory? I’m surprised that moment even stuck with you, so unaffected did you seem.” 

His every word claws and prods at that  _ thing _ in your brain, the building pressure pounding at your skull from the inside. Your eyes pulse and seem to swell with the pain of unshed tears that you refuse because  _ why should you need to cry? _ His words are nonsense. Gibberish. He’s the one at your mercy not… 

“Why is it that you tremble, sweetling? Perhaps under that stoic facade… no. That’s simply too lurid. Surely the Warrior of Light didn’t take pleasure in enacting my final moments? Didn’t feel a delightful little tingle in your nethers as I begged for my life? No, not you. Not the  _ hero.” _

A scream tears its way from your throat as memories finally scrabble their way to the surface, gasping for breath as they blink beneath the scalding light of day. The pain of your knees hitting the stone floor is the only way you know you’ve fallen, eyes screwed shut hard enough to make sparks dance behind your lids. Your cries echo back to you, sharpened and skewed by these unknown halls and when they drive their way back into your mind they are no longer yours. “ _ No! I don’t want to die! I was to live forever!” _

“No!” The word ricochets off the walls, each strike chipping away at it, chiseling it to a razor-sharp point that pierces into you over and over, spilling your blood upon cold stone. “No!” That wasn’t you, not in this life, not in this timeline! This pain was not meant for you, not the one that chose a different path, yet you embrace it all the same, because it is _his_ pain too. You remember that searing light, and the shattering, and the feeling of victory at having _bound and_ _destroyed Nabriales’ soul._

“How you shiver and shake! Lucky you, warrior. If I’m honest, I think you remember more about my final moments than I do."

“Damn you,” you curse, no power behind the frail remnants of your anger. 

“If it’s any consolation, I’ve mostly forgiven you. Perhaps I’ll let you persuade me to tell you why.” 

Now acutely aware that you’re the monster here, it would only be right to free him but... Standing again is agony, as is every step you take towards him, yet there’s a pull you don’t have any will to fight. “Driven by curiosity, aren’t you?” Nabriales shifts against his bonds, no longer struggling against them but flexing and twisting. There’s nothing accidental in the way his tunic stretches tight over his chiseled chest, the way his muscular arms strain. 

Even shrouded by his mask, you can’t bear to be under his gaze any longer, so you bring yourself to the only place you can hide from it here. Aetheric chains shift melodiously when you press yourself to his chest. His adam’s apple bobs as you work your fingers into the thin fabric that shrouds his neck, peeling it down to expose your target. You can feel him moving, away, towards, there’s no way to tell and it doesn’t matter - only the sheen of sweat on his skin, and the salty taste of him against your tongue. Little things that should be mundane to you become infinitely fascinating- the leap of his pulse against your lips when you nip at his neck, the rise and fall of his breath and the way it hitches when your nails dig into the toned muscles of his back. 

His voice comes breathy and strained, “I can’t imagine Lahabrea letting you chain him up at your mercy…” 

“Shut up,” you hiss. 

He still can’t see you, see what he’s doing to you. Yet the heat washing over your face redoubles when he shifts again, hips meeting yours, letting you feel  _ exactly _ what you’re doing to him. “Mmm, then what have I done to earn such special treatment?” 

You graze your teeth over his jugular. “Irritated me.” He yelps as you bite down, not hard enough to draw blood but to bruise his borrowed body. 

“Then I wonder what else I can do to earn your further ire? Shall we find out if these chains can really hold me or if I’m letting you have your way for now?” 

_ Gods, he needs to stop talking. _ With a fistful of his hair in one hand, you pull his face to yours. The kiss is ruthless, both of you fighting for dominance at once. You taste copper, unsure of who’s blood stains your lips, then coats tongue as you delve into his mouth, blood and cinnamon and  _ trouble _ .

A wicked little chuckle low in his throat that reverberates through you is the only warning you get before he forces an undignified squeak from you - He’s made good on his threat to test his bonds, crushing you once more in his embrace. The room blurs and he has your back against the wall. Fingers grip the meat of your thigh as he guides you to wrap one leg around his waist, grinding against your heat haphazardly, never enough to give you the sweet pressure you need. You wrench yourself away from his kiss, panting and fighting to catch your breath, to demand more, but he returns the sweet torment you inflicted on him earlier, working his way up your neck, to the shell of your ear. 

“Shall I tell you a secret, sweet thing?” He takes your growl and your bootheel pressing into the small of his back as a ‘yes’. “I’m not the only Ascian you’ve snuffed out.” 

Your blood freezes.  _ He can’t mean… _ you can’t put words to that horrible possibility with him overwhelming your senses like this, made worse when he catches your earlobe between his sharp canines, dragging them along the sensitive flesh. 

“Do I have your attention now? He didn’t tell you, did he?  _ Fascinating.”  _

The world shifts again, a blur of motion and chaos. The riot of color beneath your hands resolves itself into the rug on your bedroom floor. When you wrench your gaze from it you see two black-clad figures, one held against the wall by his throat, feet dangling. “Took you some time to find us, Speaker. Are you losing your touch?” 

Tendrils of aether intermittently obscure your view of the two men like a den of snakes coiled and swaying, ready to strike.  _ “Does it feel like I have?”  _

“Tell her!” croaks Nabriales, his fingernails digging rents into the wallpaper. “You told her our story but not  _ hers _ ?!” 

You can feel Lahabrea’s manic roar in your chest. “ _ Because it doesn’t matter now! You know better than any of us how the past was undone, and yet you violate our space and my trust to punish her for it?”  _

“Stop… please. He did nothing to me.” You can only pray your voice is loud enough.

Lahabrea stares at his captive for a moment longer before letting him drop to the floor. “You’re sure he didn’t harm you?”

“He did not. If anything, I treated him cruelly.” You watch as Nabriales stands up with a groan, rubbing his neck. “Tell me. I killed both of you once, didn’t I?” 

To your surprise, Lahabrea looks away, his silence damning. Nabriales sits down hard on the edge of the bed, his face in his hands. “Neither of you remembers, then?” He sighs. “I’ll take your silence to mean I have the right of it. My memory is lacking as well, but Elidibus was the last of us still alive when it happened so he watched as each of us were consigned to oblivion. In my case, you completed what was started - your Scions trapped me in auracite and you dealt the final blow. You fought Lahabrea and another.” In the single breath before he continues there’s a rising tension in the room that you would have been ignorant to only months ago and it prickles at your scalp. “After the fight, you eradicated the other and left Lahabrea so weakened that he was subsumed by a Primal.” 

Nausea bubbled up within you. How could either of them forgive you for this? Did you even deserve absolution? These ancient beings were fighting to right a mistake from the beginning of time and… 

Now unmasked, Lahabrea crouches down next to you and takes your hands. His pale and gentle gaze dulls some of your self-loathing. “I knew not the details, but I had already forgiven you sometime back.” 

“How? I’m a murderer…” 

Your answer comes instead from Nabriales. “What choice did you have? You were driven to hate us by the words of your Scion friends and of  _ Her _ . She had her hooks in you early on through her trickery.” He pauses for a moment, tapping a finger against the edge of his mask. “There was yet one other. Rather than seeing you only as the nuisance you were then, he realized before any of us that you were once someone dear to us. He tried to forge a different path but, in the end, it came down to a fight and he lost. From what Elidibus witnessed, you understood our truth and grieved for weeks, and that is when you sought out forbidden magicks to undo what had been wrought.” 

“Forbidden magicks?” 

“Yes. In the ruins of Amaurot you were drawn to one of my own concept matrices. For you see, one of my specialities is time magic. Your determination to undo all of this awoke the spell within and, ta da, here we are! So said Elidibus, though with less enthusiasm.” 

You probe the depths of your memory but see no fragments or trails that match up to his tale. However, the willingness to dabble in magicks you ought not to is familiar enough, so you can’t help but let out a nervous laugh. “Then you have my thanks.” Though you want to ask what he meant by you being ‘dear to all of them’, uncovering memories bit by bit with Lahabrea was a delicate and intimate process you weren’t yet ready to accelerate unless he wished to. “Shall we forgive each other for our earlier rudeness as well? I don’t blame you for having harbored ill will for me.” 

“Lets. I did not come here to chase away your lovely smile, but I let old wounds get the best of me. I accept your apology and offer mine in return.” The lopsided grin he gives you manages to make the eye-slits of his mask seem more jovial than before and you find his mirth contagious, smiling despite yourself. 

With a pointed glare at the other Ascian, Lahabrea interjects. “I still do not appreciate you coming here on false pretenses.” 

“Hardly,” he replies with a shrug. “I came here to see what kind of woman captivated you so and what she had become after everything. There was no falsehood in that. Though, if you’d allow me to stay a bit longer, I would like to continue the, hmm,  _ conversation _ from earlier.” 

Lahabrea reaffirms that you have his permission with a curt nod, and you bend down to kiss his brow. Your affection earns a grumble, but he runs his thumb over the back of your hand, a small gesture clearer than any word could be. With both of them so close and thoughts of each cascading through your mind, you gather your courage and give voice to a rather bold wish. “Yes. And if I may be a bit selfish, might I request the chance to apologize to you both? So to speak…” 

“ _ By the Dark One,”  _ answers Nabriales, already moving in behind you, his hands caressing your shoulders, your neck. You just catch the glare that Lahabrea flashes him before his lips meet yours. There’s an undercurrent of possessiveness you aren’t used to in that kiss and it enflames you even further. Two sets of hands rove over your body, already tugging at your belt and the clasps of your robe. It falls from your shoulders, sleeves hanging low on your arms and limiting your movement. You sigh in delight as Nabriales plants hot kisses along the nape of your neck, venturing across your exposed shoulders. Here and there you can feel the prick of his fangs and it sends a jolt up your spine every time. 

Lahabrea must have removed his gloves too because you’ve already lost track of whose hands are whose and you don’t care because you’re  _ floating _ . Their twin touches rove over your hips, your back, your waist, unpredictable, unrelenting. Someone cups your breast, teasing a nipple to hardness and making you gasp into Lahabrea’s kiss. Hands never leaving you for longer than they must, the two men help you up to your feet, guiding the rest of your robes to the floor, leaving you in nothing but your cotton trousers. A tap on your lover’s shoulder reminds him you still have need for air and he gives you a brief reprieve from his tempestuous kiss. But that gulping breath lodges in your throat when there are suddenly two pairs of lips, two tongues of liquid fire plying at your neck, your shoulders. 

So drenched in pleasure, you’re falling now, held up only by the press of two black-clad sorcerers, soft robes and tunic slipping over your bare skin, hot and cold. “Poor thing,” says Nabriales, his voice a low purr. “Wouldn’t do to have you topple to the floor. Let me help you.” 

At his words, Lahabrea looks to him and judging by the crease of his brow he’s not convinced of whatever the other is planning. Nabriales takes the opportunity to lift you up, one arm behind your knees and the other behind your back. He carries you over to one corner of the bed and bids you lift your arms. “Well done,” he says, praising you for complying when you both know what he must have in mind. As you’d guessed and secretly hoped, magical bonds wend their way around your wrists, swiftly binding you high against one column of your canopy bed. 

There is no bite of metal against your flesh. The sound of chains is unmistakable but the aether that holds you in place and drips down your arms is velvety and thick like treacle. Your feet strain to reach the floor out of instinct, but there is nothing but air. Even dangling so, there is no pain with Nabriales’ magicks drizzled over you so, holding, lifting gently. 

You send probing tendrils of aether up to test your bonds, finding them far more complex than the ones you had crafted for Nabriales, and seeing no weakness with which to undo them… Your breathing quickens under the weight of their appraising gazes, accomplishing nothing but filling the room with the metallic clank of aetheric chains. Unfathomably, the sound, the wooden column at your spine, the surety that you are helpless to the whims of now  _ two _ absurdly powerful beings is maddening in ways that leave you shamelessly pressing your thighs together to quell some of the desperation coursing through you. You longed for either of them, both of them to touch you once more, to let that fire consume you. 

When Nabriales steps forward, dragging his finger across your ribs, down your belly, you arc into his touch, your body silently pleading for more. “Have you ever had her like this, old man?” 

Lahabrea tenses, his face contorting into a scowl as fierce as that of his mask. “Call me such one more time, whelp, and I’ll incinerate…” 

“Come now, is this any time for grudges? Surely this is a task worthy of cooperation?” 

When your lover turns his back to you both, you fear for a moment that he would simply walk away. None of this distracts Nabriales from his task of finding new curves and dips on your body that make you squirm, but you can’t bring yourself to focus on his touch. “You’re right, for once,” comes Lahabrea’s reply, finally. There’s a dangerous tone in his voice that instantly earns your full attention. He’s striding towards you now, pulling on his gloves once more, making you tremble in blissful anticipation. Slipping one hand behind your back, he leans in close to whisper in your ear. “We’re going to utterly devour you tonight. I hope you are ready.”

You can only nod in enthusiastic reply when his leather-clad fingers and metal talons join the cascading touches already driving you wild. He traces a circle around one of your nipples, orbit ever tightening before capturing it between two of his claws. Your gasping moan seems to spur Nabriales on and you feel him tug at the drawstring of your pants. You wiggle your hips as needed to help him undress you. He takes his time dragging your trousers and smalls down together and lifting each foot one at a time to free you from them. His masked gaze roves over your body as you luxuriate in Lahabrea’s confident explorations, the drag of leather across your skin and the prickling of metal that follows in its wake. 

Nabriales makes a show of stripping off his tight black tunic, stretching lazily as he does so. He kicks his boots away then finishes undressing. His alluring form, stolen and molded to his whims, draws a hungry moan from your waiting lips. Your wordless invitation draws him back to you and he drinks deep of your helpless little mewls as you are once again set upon by two pairs of itinerant hands. No longer fueled by ire, he’s an ardent and attentive explorer, plush and heated lips melting against yours until the room fades away around you.

Close to your ear comes Lahabrea’s voice, a husky thing, threat laced with lust. “If your wish to atone is sincere, Majestic, then I suggest you  _ bow  _ to her.” You whimper at the sudden loss of Nabriales’ kiss, and again from the heated trail he makes, nipping at your throat and following with slow, liquid licks. He makes a meandering trail down your body, between your breasts and you squirm against your bonds, rising to meet him. When you chance to open your eyes you see Lahabrea’s fingers tangled in the other man’s hair, urging him ever downward. He manages a few quick kisses along your belly, the hollow of your hips before he’s on his knees before you, his slightly swollen lips parted in a foolish, fanged grin. 

Familiar feathery tendrils of heated aether lap at your sides and up your neck as Lahabrea releases Nabriales and puts most of himself between you and the column at your back. “Your apologies are ever naught but frail excuses. Rather,  _ show her _ . Drink deep of her flesh while I sup upon her aether, her very essence.” The last word devolves into a hiss and further into a dark semblance of a laugh. Pressed between your quivering thighs, a deep pulse hits your sex at his utterances. A furious burst of memory awakens in your mind - A commanding roar from Lahabrea that erupts inside the back of your skull -  _ “know your place!” _ \- oozing through your consciousness and leaving you light and pliant. You offer no resistance when metal and leather lift your thighs, spreading them for the Ascian kneeling at your feet. 

Nabriales starts a sloppy trail of opened-mouthed kisses up one of your legs until a growl from the older man has him scrambling forward. He glances up at you with a cheeky smile, the light almost letting you glimpse the eyes behind that odd, insectoid mask. Settling his shoulders under your thighs, he flicks the tip of his tongue over your swollen folds. Finally given your first taste of the gratification you’ve needed all night, that one fleeting touch steals an ugly wheezing moan from you. He repeats the motion, making the muscles of your thighs and belly leap in tandem, your head lolling back. Then again, and again, finally burying his hot tongue in your sex, wiggling and undulating with an expertise that has you on the verge of ecstasy in seconds. 

Your reverie is interrupted as a sharp pain shoots through your groin and down your thigh. The sudden pain makes you gasp and struggle to get away from him. Nabriales continues devouring you, headless to your pain and you nearly reach your crest before you’re pricked again - a stabbing ache like a bite from an insect. “ _ What…?”  _ You fight against the two pairs of hands holding you in place as your body seeks to escape whatever assaulted you so. Nabriales backs off ever so slightly, the fine hairs along his jaw tickling at your thighs, tongue still flicking in ways that send jolts of ecstasy through your body. 

“ _ Idiot! _ ” hisses Lahabrea. Heated filaments of Lahabrea’s aether bloom over the backs of your thighs holding them in place as well as his hands had moments ago. Weightlessly you float between the two Ascians, aether hungrily lapping at your thighs and ass, syrupy beads rolling down your arms. Your lover drags two claws down your back and swallows up your resulting cries with an utterly devouring kiss. A startled yelp from Nabriales is the only warning you get before you are bombarded with new sensations. Uncountable fingers… no? Whatever the source of the myriad abrupt strikes to your clit, in seconds you’re flooded with sweet release at last. Your body’s convulsions wrench you from Lahabrea’s kiss, your tongue trying to work its way around both men’s names at once and uttering only blissful nonsense. 

Nabriales leans back and your eyes flick to him, half afraid he’s already done even with the pain from earlier and… light catches on the clinging wetness that slicks his mask before he tears it off his face and casts it to the side. “You’re more depraved than I ever dared dream,” he says, looking to Lahabrea. “And you,” he continues, with his surprisingly youthful gaze and deep brown eyes focused on you, “are a delight to the senses. A…,” whatever further platitudes he wished to offer are cut off again as he’s again pressed into duty by his elder’s clawed grasp. 

No longer in danger of pricking you with those little red fangs, Nabriales continues his earlier work with abandon. He pleasures you with long, burrowing licks, occasionally pointing his tongue and driving it against your clit, backing off again when your cries tell him you’re nearing another climax. Apparently satisfied that he’ll remain focused on his task, Lahabrea releases his grip on the other man and turns his attention to you. His claws trail over your neck, down your back, but as stirring as his ministrations are, they pale in comparison to the way his aether flares against you, seeking entry, union. Your eyes flutter shut and physical sensations fade into the background as you open yourself to his caliginous grandeur. 

You can taste his well-earned arrogance dripping from the soul-tendrils that envelop your aetheric body, smoky-sweet. Filaments twist and seek through your form until they find their homes in the places that make your aether flare his favorite colors. Distantly you can still feel Nabriales’ tongue plying at your flesh, but the satisfaction he aims for is multiplied a thousandfold across the expanse of your soul through writhing tentacles as you fearlessly drown in Lahabrea’s endless shadow. 

Both men seemed to have silently agreed to keep you from tipping over the edge for as long as possible… so distanced from physicality, you can still tell Nabriales’ moment’s have slowed to a teasing circling through your folds, and Lahabrea has stopped short of delving into those places he knows need the most attention. Vibrations shiver through your form, everything tight, tight, tight and on the verge of snapping, leaving you torn between wanting this delectation to go on forever and ready to pray to all of your forsaken gods to give you sweet release, physical or aetheric. “Please, I need… You can’t….,” you fumble out. 

“ _ Pathetic.  _ I expected more of you, Nabriales.” Lahabrea’s voice comes to you muffled and strained, echoing distantly as you struggle to pull more of his vast darkness into you. He stoically holds back, giving you only a modicum of the attention you want, even though it’s already enough to keep you teetering on the edge. 

Time seems to pause for a moment as if the very star’s heart skipped a beat. “Is that so?” comes Nabriales’ voice, thick and drawn out. “You really have spoiled her, haven’t you?” His words begin to slur near the end of his sentence, and as the last words leave his lips they are followed by the tips of two dark... things flicking at the edge of your soul-space. You would have called the color of them ‘black’ once, but in contrast to Lahabrea’s essence and with your keen senses they are dark gray, shot through with muted red. Any further considerations on the matter melt like snow in Thanalan when two undulating aetheric tongues fully emerge from his mouth. 

“So you are capable of showing some ingenuity!” mocks Lahabrea, earning a drooling noise of irritation from the younger Ascian. 

Those dripping black muscles slither through the air, tasting, probing, each easily several ilms long. He gives you no time to imagine what they can do to you - Physical. Aetheric. Somehow he’s working at  _ both  _ as his tongues shudder and twist over your folds. Lahabrea’s aetheric coils wend around and through you in time with your own wanton gyrations, caressing the intangible nerves only he is privy to. One of Nabriales’ fiendish tendrils twists back on itself and drives into your depths, pumping relentlessly. It’s thicker than you’d imagined but as slick as it is, it slides deep inside you with no resistance, filling you deliciously. In seconds, it’s all too much. Your mind goes white from the onslaught as you coil even tighter still, feeling like whatever structures in your being have managed to keep you sane so far are creaking and groaning and… 

_ Finally,  _ your orgasm tears through you, body and soul, in a roar like flame and fury. The flaring brightness fades as quickly as it appeared, and you feel yourself drop...

… and open your eyes to soft black robes ornamented with silver and purple. A soothing hand on your back makes lazy circles there, coaxing you back to the physical realm. Lahabrea speaks your name, calling to you through your haze of drowsy delight. You lift your head from his chest and see you’d been unbound and are curled up beside him in bed. It would be so easy to give in to the pull of sleep but then you remember, there was another with you. It is a bit of a struggle to pry yourself from Lahabrea’s warmth, but when you do, you are rewarded with the sight of Nabriales leaning against the far column of the bed. “She wakes! I had feared we were done for the evening.” 

“We are if she so wishes it.” 

“But, I…,” 

“The decision is  _ not _ yours.” 

Nabriales strides over to your side of the bed, trailing his fingers down your arm. “Ah, frail Hydaelyn truly has lost her grasp upon you, hmm? I once saw you bereft of that blessing, but now your soul gleams with darkness more beautiful even than your lovely visage. So, Lahabrea, I understand why you covet her so and why there is no fear of the Warrior rising again.” 

You turn and catch his wandering fingers with your own. “Not in Hydaelyn’s service, but I do rise again, and unless I slept through it, I believe neither of you has reached release this eve, yes?” 

“So magnanimous, our sweet darkling,” he says, bringing your fingers to his lips. “Have I earned my keep for the night, do you think?” 

Lahabrea caresses your cheek with the back of a claw, awakening your fervor once more. “If it is what you desire.” 

You nod, covering his hand with yours so that you can turn and kiss the gloved pads of his fingers, reveling in the familiar texture and earthy scent. He knows you well, running that talon along your lower lip until you grant entrance, swirling your tongue around the tip, relishing the metallic tang as he guides it in and out of your mouth. Nabriales lets out a groan as he joins the two of you on the bed. He seems at a loss for a moment, unsure of how to proceed with the intimate scene playing out before him, raising an eyebrow as he observes. There’s a tension to his form that bespeaks of a desire to reach out, to… and you watch his eyes roll back, his face go slack. The worry that spikes within you dissipates when he lets out a drawn out, “ _ ohhh…”  _

Your curiosity is answered by the waxing of the shadows within and around your canopy bed, and the knowing smile upon Lahabrea’s lips. He withdraws the claw from your mouth, saliva stranding between metal and flesh, allowing you to watch his aether welling up around Nabriales. Amid the wavering haze, a few darker and more substantial cords of it snake their way over the younger Ascian’s thighs, one already winding itself around his cock. 

For all their bickering, you’d not expected them to be assisting with each other’s pleasure… but it is certainly not an unwelcome sight. Nabriales tilts his head back, eyes fluttering shut, and  _ whimpers _ \- a sound that nearly makes you do the same. It is a lovely sight that leaves you wanton, fully reawakening your need. 

Lahabrea, still in his robes but without the metal pauldrons that have left rents in more than a few of the blankets you own, takes your hand and guides you down with him. He settles himself comfortably against the many luxurious pillows there, his smug smile softening when your eyes meet his. Once you’ve braced yourself with both hands on the bed, his claws brush over your temples, warm leather sliding over your cheeks and down your neck. Your heart leaps at the open adoration he displays, even now with another in the room, and you whisper words of love to him. “ _ Thank you for trusting me, my Shadow.” _

He closes his eyes and nods once in reply, lips parted as if about to speak, but interrupted by an impassioned groan from Nabriales. “You… Distracted… Too tight!” 

A frown flashes over your lover’s face as he’s reminded of the other’s presence. His face a mask of haughty self-assurance once more, he grumbles back, “Then you’d best take the offering given to you while you still can.” 

Nabriales shifts on the bed somewhere behind you now, jostling you with his shaky movements. His voice is one breath shy of a squeak. “Offering?” Having been subject to similar, you can imagine what effect Lahabrea’s aether is having on him, though you wonder if it is different between two Ascians. You feel a brief pang in your chest at the reminder that you are only mortal, sundered and apart from them in fundamental ways, at least for now. All the more reason to help their great work where you might. For now, you decide, you shall enjoy the immense power they hold compared to you, and focus on how thrilling it is to be subject to it here and now. 

The question posed by Nabriales, lost to your musings, returns to you as Lahabrea answers - not with words but by pulling you down so your chest is pressed to his robes, his unnatural heat quickly warming you. More fire rushes up to your cheeks when you realize this leaves you kneeling over his hips as if presenting yourself to the other Ascian. “D-divine,” he stutters out. 

“Must I drag you over here myself?” 

Whatever actions punctuated Lahabrea’s words make Nabriales yelp and he scrambles up behind you, hands skittering over your back as he positions himself between your legs. He takes a stuttering breath, anchoring himself with one hand gripping your hip. Your own breath is just as shaky as anticipation bolts through you, your walls clenching and ready to be filled. “Please…,” you murmur, the sound probably lost in Lahabrea’s robes. Finally… you suck in a hissing breath when the searing hot head of Nabriales’ cock presses against your entrance. A whimper this time, “please…” He doesn’t leave you waiting, sliding into you as you moan in tandem. Lahabrea’s claws dancing along your spine feel laced with levin with all your nerves alight from the thrill of being taken at last. 

He pulls back, ramming into you, once, twice, before setting a confident pace. He’s as steady as a metronome, through his panting and his faint little moans are out of sync with his movements in a deliciously endearing way. And oh, he fills you so sweetly -  _ they _ , you remember as knots and whorls of Lahabrea’s aether create ever-changing shapes that rub against you in wicked ways. Even more so when you let gravity pull you further against Lahabrea’s chest, angling your hips to let Nabriales sink even deeper into you, hitting a spot that leaves you shamelessly drooling on your lover’s robes. The absurdity and sheer debauchery of it makes you breathe out a laugh. 

All too soon you feel the hazy madness of an impending orgasm so strong you’re sure it will drive you insane. You keen, muscles clutching against Nabriales’ length and making him groan long and loud. His ardor is enough to tip you over the edge, fingers twisting in the bedding, shuddering against Lahabrea as you fight to catch your breath again. His gloved fingers rove over your back, the leather now catching minutely here and there, almost sticky from the sweat slicking your back. You feel it beading down your brow as well as the heat of both Ascians and your own feverish pleasure becomes almost too much. 

Propping yourself up with one shaking hand to get some breathing room, you wiggle your hips against Nabriales in askance for him to continue. Whatever his reply, the Echo fails to translate that obvious curse before he starts plunging into you again, lurid wet sounds filling the room in time with his movements. As over sensitive and overworked as you both are, there’s no way your earthly bodies will last much longer, which leaves your comparatively neglected lover… 

You know that it’s not his engendered flesh that needs your rapt attention, despite the satisfaction you both derive from your breasts gliding over the silken fabric of his tunic, your desire flaring against his soul. With practiced care, your seeking aether teases out a mere fragment of his immense soul. Your skin prickles as it swiftly crystalizes in your palm. It is an entrancing, multifaceted thing - one you would gladly admire with your full attention were it not for the other Ascian’s impassioned thrusts rocking through you. Release is what you all needed, even if you were already lamenting this night’s end. Eyes locked on Lahabrea’s once you catch his gaze once more, you press your tongue through the thick aether that surrounds his soul crystal, denser and denser the closer you get to its core. 

When at last you taste the very center of it a rolling wave of electric ecstasy surges through all three of you at once. The unexpected aetheric feedback is nearly overwhelming - smoke and sweet spice and boiling blood rushing through your veins. Nabriales’s cadence breaks and his blunt nails drag burning lines into the tender flesh of your hips, hushed curses spilling from his mouth. At the same time, Lahabrea’s claws bite into your shoulders as he throws his head back and lets out a throaty moan. 

As if ashamed at such an unabashed admission of pleasure, he grits his teeth and turns his reddening face away, but his aether does not retreat. Rather, it blooms around all three of you, obscuring the rest of the room. Determined to give him release before your body can take no more, you run your tongue along his soul again, the taste of it dark and heady. His reaction is instantaneous, and you howl nearly as loudly as Nabriales as the aetheric tendrils spiraling around his cock grow and pulse, around him, inside you. 

Trembling with the effort of holding back, staving off hitting your peak for just… just another moment, you curl your tongue, wrapping it around as much of Lahabrea’s essence as you can, moaning low and letting the sound vibrate through it. The three of you cry out as one, three songs of pleasure complimenting each other - A brief moment of orchestral brilliance before you all tumble down in a sweaty but comfortable cacophony. 

Just before your arm gives out, you manage to relinquish your hold on the crystal, distantly sensing it merge back into its source. You’re face down in Lahabrea’s robes again, only saved from completely falling over by Nabriales’ firm grip on your hips. With a few last exhausted, stuttering thrusts, he fills you with his hot release. Your body quakes with aftershocks as he finally lets you slump down on the warm and soft man beneath you. Everything is warmth as you worm yourself into as comfortable a position as possible until your muscles all refuse to listen to you anymore. 

Eyes now shut, you listen as Nabriales’ breath slows along with yours. After some moment’s hesitation, he too lays down, wrapping an arm around your side, fingers trailing over your belly. It’s ticklish, but you’re too far gone to respond beyond a twitch of muscle and a huff of breath. Two sets of hands, neither gloved now, drape over your body, skim over your hair, lull you into blissful unconsciousness. 

***

You awaken to snoring - a sound you’d not heard in your bed in many a year. Through the drowsy daze, you rouse, taking stock of what you can. All is darkness but for a distant flickering from beyond your bedroom’s curtains. A fire in the hearth to keep the chill away. The weight upon your body and fur tickling your nose tells you someone tucked you in beneath your lush bedding. Something else weighs heavy on you, making your muscles even less enthusiastic about the idea of moving. Ever. An arm over your side, and… it must be that your leg is pinned by another’s. The sound that woke you breaks the silence once more in time with a deep breath from the man behind you. 

Your body shakes with silent laughter when you remember Nabriales asking if he’d earned his keep for the night. Even with him having more than done so, you’d not expected to wake in his arms. Did he even need to sleep? Lahabrea had mentioned staying awake for days with forms he’d possessed, though you knew he was prone to fight tooth and nail to resist sleep even before the sundering. Perhaps you should take it as a point of pride that you’d helped render an Ascian in need of such rest. 

He grumbles something in his sleep that the echo doesn’t bother translating, and extracts himself from you to roll over onto his belly, sprawled out like a sea monk. Though you miss the contact, you take this opportunity to stagger out of the bed and attend to your own ablutions. 

As appealing as the idea of crawling back into the warm sanctuary of your bed sounds, you have a more pressing matter. You pad out to the main room, hand to your chest, heart beating in your throat, praying to no one in particular that he hasn’t left sometime during the night.

Standing on the threshold, you fight to take the last step. What if last night had changed something irreparable, straining what sometimes felt like a fragile, tenuous connection to the immortal soul that… You swallow hard before even letting the phrase tumble through your mind. The soul, the man, that you were impossibly in love with. 

In the silence between your breaths and the muffled snores from the other room, you hear a familiar staccato scratching sound, and the tension in your shoulders mostly slides away. He’s here, and hard at work again already. You’ve heard him write when irritated and while calm, and thankfully the lack of hard taps punctuating long lines of script indicate the latter. 

That soothing sound ceases, replaced by the quiet rustling of fabric, and you let this be your cue to enter the room at last. You’re treated to the sight of Lahabrea leaning back over his chair, stretching, arms high in the air. Though he doesn’t yawn, his jaw quivers slightly as though he’s fighting the urge to do so. “Good morning,” you call softly. 

“Hmm? Oh yes. It is getting close to morning, judging by the light coming in from…” 

Still not used to your terrible habit of silencing The Speaker so, he mumbles the last few words of his sentence against your lips before chuckling and pulling you into his lap. “Rude little mortal, interrupting me so. How uncouth.” 

You smack his chest playfully. “Excuse me? I don’t make a habit of reminding you of  _ your _ failings.”

“That’s because I have none,” he says with feigned seriousness. 

As much as you want to keep playing along, the words you’ve been carrying in your heart tumble forth. “You stayed.”

He pulls you closer still in his warm embrace. The next words he speaks bubble out in the captivating tones of the language of the Ancients. “ _ I could not very well ask you to return to me and yet leave this place. Though I confess it is not merely fairness that holds me here. In these walls, you have built a refuge. A sacred space that, on my best of days, I dare call home.”  _ Though you cannot see his face, you can hear the emotion in his voice, even though you’ve not yet learned the nuances of his language. “ _ To have a place I can call home here in this sundered world. To have someone who accepts me as I am is unfathomably precious to me. With you, I share my heart, tattered though it may be.”  _ You shift in his lap so you can look at him, and catch a single shining tear at the corner of one of his pale golden eyes. “So yes,” he continues, now in your common tongue. “I stayed. You’ll not be rid of me so easily.”

Though not his first time professing his love, it still draws deep into the well of emotions within you, spilling forth and coalescing as a profound weight in your chest. Words are lost as your throat tightens around them. Heat builds behind your eyes as impending tears fight their way to the surface. “Where your words fail, your soul speaks, and I hear you. Come, let us lay you back down and rest awhile until morning comes in full. Shall I oust that rube from our bed first?” 

Despite everything, he manages to make you huff out a laugh. “He’s not so bad.”

“You are right, though he’ll never hear it from me. Had I thought him truly terrible, I would not have agreed to his request to meet you.” 

With a little prompting, namely, a shove from Lahabrea, you manage to find space for the three of you in your bed. Not long after you settle in, tucked against your soulmate’s chest, Nabriales rolls over and wraps an arm around you as well. He mumbles out a little contented noise before apparently returning to sleep. Lahabrea rolls his eyes at the other Ascian, but his smile betrays him. Too comfortable to move, you let your aether instead brush against his. The touch accepted and returned, you drift off to sleep cradled in his arms and spirit alike. 


End file.
